


Find The Night Again

by Leftover_Spagehhti



Category: Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Javert Lives, M/M, Post-Seine, Sad, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sick Character, Suicide Attempt, Valjean Lives, depressed javert, sick!Javert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leftover_Spagehhti/pseuds/Leftover_Spagehhti
Summary: Javert is saved by Valjean but desperate for death. The confused inspector is ill and prays to perish each night but as the days go on, he finds hidden compassion and feelings for Valjean. Valjean needs to teach him to confront the terrifying inner turmoil of his emotions and change of mind.
Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Valjean walked alone by the raging river. The national guard's coat was still draped over his shoulders. His heart couldn't contain the amount of terrible emotion he was feeling. He stifled a cry and a single hot tear fell down his cheek. The poor boys. They all had died. 

"Such brave souls." Valjean looked up to the sky. The clouds were angry and threatening. Greyer than the soul of a man he once knew. He let a cry escape his throat and focused his gaze closely in the tiny gap between the clouds and the sky. Heaven. That's where Enjolras and all the young boys are now. The thought made Valjean smile and his chest loosen up. Love was taking over his fear of death. "Yes." Valjean said.

But again the man Javert. Where would he go? What would he do? He needs medical attention! Valjean thought. His shoulders are probably fractured from being tied up for so long. God his legs could be bruised he is badly wounded. His mouth was bloody and now he drowned? 

Javert, a straight forward man of the law whose world had been turned upside down in such a surprisingly short period of time. His world, such a vast but colourless place. All his adult life, he had only believed in the law and would live and die for it and now he was told that all this time he was wrong. It brought such a pitiful wave of self hatred upon himself. The inner turmoil inside that he had ignored all of his life was as big as it could possibly. It took over his entire soul. As soon as Jean Valjean fired the shot in the opposite direction, he heard his words echo "You are wrong, you always have been wrong." It made him fall to his knees and scream. The only escape was death.

Valjean looked around at the peaceful night, until he saw something strangely familiar. It was a colour way brighter than anything else. A really pale beige just sitting in the grass at the bank. Why was it so familiar? He walked closer to it. After a few steps, Valjean realized, this was a person. A face. Pale skin, ice blue eyes, dark long hair, and high prominent cheekbones. Javert!

"Oh dear God! Javert!" Valjean quickened his pace to almost that of a cat's and slid on his knees to the ground in front of the unconscious man. Valjean looked at the way his eyes were open. Halfway. He might not be dead. Valjean put his ear on Javert's chest and heard his heartbeat. Although, Javert wasn’t breathing. Valjean new what he had to do. He slowly brought his trembling lips to Javert's cold discoloured ones. He began breathing hard into Javert's mouth. Nothing.

Soon, Valjean was about to give up. He sighed and felt his vision being blurred by tears. "No." He whimpered. He took Javert in his arms and pressed him against his chest. "Oh Javert. Please don’t leave. Not like this." Valjean carefully lay the man’s body down and let out one small cry.

Rain began to pour. Javert's finger moved slightly, feeling the ground. He opened his eyes. He tried to sit up but, he began coughing. Cold water spilled from his mouth. 

"Javert!" Valjean cried out. "You are alive!"


	2. Unfamiliar Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert has a strange dream and then wakes up in a strangely comfortable bed. After having a short panic attack, Valjean coaxes him and tries to get him to sleep and eat but it backfires in an unexpected way.

Javert awoke in an unfamiliar bed. His lungs felt as if they were on fire. Every breath ached with the sanctuary of the water that was trapped within him. He wanted to cry out in pain but couldn't. His limbs went numb and his vision blurred. He faded in and out of consciousness. But he could’ve sworn he heard a voice. A beautiful humming of a woman. In his blurry state, a figure appeared. The woman. She had long black hair and beige skin. Her beautiful icy blue eyes glowed. She was a Romani girl no older than twenty five. "My Javert. My strong lone wolf."

In his dream, Javert muttered with a raspy voice "Mother..."

Suddenly, "Javert! Finally you spoke." The loud booming familiar voice of a man.

Javert screamed and grabbed the sides of his bed, threatened. His chest aggressively moved up and down, ignoring the swirling pain in his lungs. Valjean laid his hand gently on Javert’s shoulder to calm the younger man before him. "Do not worry. It is just me" Valjean softened his tone.

Javert blinked a few times before regaining his full vision. Valjean's jet-white beard gave him a headache. His throat felt like a dry wasteland. The flesh felt as if it were rubbed raw. "Water.... please." Javert requested. It was no more than a raspy whisper.

"Of course. You must be so very dehydrated. I will be right back." As Valjean left the room, Javert felt the strength to sit up in his bed. He looked around. The room was quite plain except for maybe a bookshelf, a painting of a young girl, and the wooden bedside table. Why hadn't he perished?

It was much longer than expected when Valjean returned. He carried a tray of bread and cheese and a cup of water and Javert's stomach roiled at the sight of food. He wanted to refuse it, but again, didn’t have the strength.

When Valjean a bit, some of the water sloshed onto the ground. Valjean chuckled. "Oh dear me. I must be getting on in my years." Javert wanted to roll his eyes, but didn't have the strength to do so. 

Valjean didn't say a word as he set the tray down on Javert's lap and the man reached greedily for the water. Valjean held it to Javert's lips and he gulped it down even when he felt streams trickle down his chin. He let go of the cup with a relieved sigh, catching his breath. 

"Are you going to eat?" Valjean questioned. J

"I don't know." Javert glared.

"Please try."

For the next few minutes, Javert ate in silence as Valjean observed. Each bite was hesitant at first, and then not savoured. He was mainly eating the bread. He left the cheese for the end. Once he finally ate everything, Valjean's smile grew wider, and Javert's scowl began to morph into a cringe. 

"What is the matter?" Valjean furrowed his brows 

Javert's eyes were wide and he was staring at the empty plate in front of him. He threw his head back and groaned. "I think I am going to be sick." He swallowed hard. "I should not have eaten."

Valjean jolted. "Oh, I'm sorry.. I will go get s-"

Even before Valjean had finished, Javert was retching up the fresh contents of his already cramping stomach onto the sheets. He flushed with great shame. Now, he would have to sleep in this. The sheets wet, his white shirt stained with revolting colours, and the wretched stench of what was once a simple kind offering of food. Javert did not even feel better. His chest screamed at him. Not even the burning in his throat could distract from the immense pain coming from his water-logged lungs. This was the first time Javert felt tears well up in his eyes in nearly forty years.


	3. Steal my own words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valjean talks to the doctor about Javert and tells him all his symptoms without the inspector's consent, angering him. (Not finished)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valjean needs to chill about this hehe

Valjean pursed his lips with great concern. "Javert, I am truly sorry. Do you need some water?" He began to toy with his fingers nervously, awaiting Javert's answer.

"No." Was his dull reply.

"Alright, Toussaint will help move you to the sofa and you may sleep there." Valjean babbled. "You shall not sleep in this mess."

Javert twisted his aching neck to face Valjean. "Why needn't you?"

"Huh?"

"You’re big and strong. Why not carry me by yourself?" Javert repeated.

Valjean sighed, knowing that this would hurt his back due to his age, but hid that fact from Javert. He carefully bent down and slowly shoved one arm under Javert's knees, and the other, under his neck to carry him. As he slowly lifted the younger man up, he noticed how surprisingly light Javert actually was. It was almost as easy as carrying a young Cosette from the woods. The man felt nearly only one hundred and twenty pounds! Valjean began to question if Javert had starved himself before. Maybe he had and hadn't been used to eating. 

As the day went on, Javert slept peacefully on the couch, only moving to say something in his sleep or change positions. A few times, he would say Valjean's name or Cosette's. "How fascinating." Valjean thought out loud. 

By the time the doctor had arrived, Javert was awake, but too fatigued to speak. He lay there with the chills, sniffling and shivering. 

Valjean had let the doctor come to sit down and have wine after he had finished examining the inspector. "Well monsieur, he seems to have a handful of broken ribs where he hit the water, and he unfortunately has some internal bleeding. It would help if you told me some of the symptoms he was experiencing." The doctor said.

Valjean took a deep breath. "Inspector Javert was running a fever. He does seem to have the symptoms of an influenza." He paused and then spoke suddenly. "Also, I must mention when I tried to make him eat. He did, but…"

"Yes?" The doctor encouraged.

Valjean looked nervous again. "Javert vomited everything a few minutes later. That brought up even more concern in me" Javert was vexed. That was a detail that he did not want to share. People would realize his terrible eating routine. The last time the inspector had eaten a full meal before Valjean came and saved him from his suicide was around a month before, and it ended in the same way it had done when he ate the bread and cheese— the cycle started when the policeman had just gradated from law school— around twenty years old. It began with him starving himself out of low self-esteem, until it changed to an unbelievable addiction to tell himself how much of a waste of time eating was. Javert also told himself that not eating would put an end to some of his annoying digestive problems and clear his constant headaches. Little did he know how much he was destroying himself. Now he was fifty-two, still wasting away in his ignorant beliefs about society, the difference between right and wrong, and his own health. Javert sat there, pouting to himself. Valjean was saying what he didn’t want to say to the doctor. He became infuriated when Valjean mentioned that he talked in his sleep. That was personal! Javert couldn’t understand why Valjean could not comprehend that. Finally, he couldn't take the annoyance building up in his chest. "Monsieur Fauchelevent is not telling the truth. I can eat just fine. You-" Javert abruptly stopped to let another painful cough. This time, there was a nauseating rattle in his throat. The doctor turned his head and examined the pale angry man. "Now, I am not saying that I do not trust your claim, monsieur Inspector, but I must test it. Believe me it is for your own health. Later, I must prescribe you with an antibiotic to save and heal your lungs. I should say they are quite damaged." Javert scowled. "What do you mean, test?" "I want to see if your claim is true. I will stay for dinner and watch you eat and see if you can do it just fine. It is for your own good." "No one invited you to stay for dinner!" Javert announced angrily and Valjean flushed with great embarrassment. The more defiant words that the inspector said, the more nervous it made Valjean. "I-I am truly sorry." Valjean stammered.


	4. "Self-inflicted"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert's claim was proven to be false and then the doctor decided to check for more visible wounds on his skin, but all he sees is scars upon the inspector's wrists and even more cuts that seemed to be self inflicted. Valjean is informed and has a nervous breakdown. (NOT FINISHED)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: SELF-HARM

Javert humiliatingly wiped the spit from his mouth as he was, again, moved to the sofa off of his just-cleaned bed. The bed, now covered in vomit, surrounded by annoyed maids muttering to themselves things like, "I can't believe I do this everyday for a handful of bread to feed my children!" Or, "When will this wretched man leave? He should've just drowned." It didn't hurt him at all. He felt rather dull inside. As he lay on the sofa, he just stared at the ceiling, licking all of the unpleasant taste in his mouth and coughing purposefully to cause himself discomfort or pain. 

Javert was silent, lying on the sofa, more focused of the pain coming from his chest than the taste in his mouth. He licked his dry lips in helpless hopes that it would somewhat satisfy his thirst. Nothing would help. The water jug was empty and Toussaint was out helping her sick husband. Valjean was busy fuming in his room, and Javert devoid of all emotion. That night felt empty and gone. As if all of the stars had perished and Javert had never felt so broken and empty since the summer of 1793.

But this depression was different from the grief of losing a friend, it felt as if nothing mattered anymore. No one cared. Javert scraped up a deep growl of a laugh and smiled with dead eyes. "You are wrong." He echoed his own memory of Valjean at the barricade.

—————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say thank you for reading. It really means a lot to me :>


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